The Lawyer, The Rancher, The Cowboy
by Queenafoster
Summary: An outsider's view
1. Chapter 1

The Lawyer, the Rancher, the Cowboy  
By Queena Foster

Riding into town, Lou Jensen casually scanned the boardwalks for anyone giving him more attention than strictly necessary. Stockton was a decent sized place, big enough to get lost in, but a fella couldn't be too careful. His last visit to California was some time back, down around San Diego, and he no longer had the beard he'd worn when he was catting around down there. No reason anyone should be looking for him in the San Joaquin. Still, a wanted man knew it was in his best interests to pay attention.

Since he was a young pup, he'd always been just a couple jumps ahead of the law. On rare occasions, some sheriff or other had caught up to him, and he'd spent time in a few jails 'round about. Still, he got away more often than not, and that suited him just fine.

Unfortunately, he was running out of civilized places that hadn't heard of him. There were folks looking to stretch his neck down around Yuma and over in Virginia City. And it wasn't much better in Santa Fe and El Paso. The situation wasn't quite so dire in Denver, but he didn't think he could risk going back to Colorado right now. And so, he figured to try California again. It was a big state with lots of people; chances were that no one would be looking for him.

Checking out the Stockton street, he noticed a couple of wagons from local ranches. Maybe hiring for round up. Lucky for him, that was just the kind of work he could do. And it was a lot easier to hide with a job.

He pulled his horse up to a post and dismounted. The nearby saloon was just what he needed. He pushed open the swinging doors and ambled up to the bar. The bartender handed over a beer and took the coin Jensen laid down.

"Ask you a question?"

The bartender shrugged, "Make it snappy, fella."

Jensen bit his tongue. As he needed to hide for a while, he figured he'd better swallow his temper for the time being. "Looking for work. Know any places might be hiring on?"

"You a chuck-line rider?"

That was too much, and he grabbed the mouthy man by the shirt, "I ain't no range bum. Just looking to sign on for the season somewhere."

The bartender brought his hands up and broke the hold. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, fella. You think I'm gonna recommend you to some of the best ranches in the state when I don't even know ya? Not even ask a simple question as to your plans?"

"Just cause I'm looking for work don't mean I'm a saddle tramp. Now do you know anyone might be hiring?"

The barman shrugged again, "Most of the bigger ranches are still looking. Not many of the one horse outfits, but I reckon you should be able to find something round about. A couple of the big boys are out there now. Just walk down the street, and you'll find someone."

"If you was looking, where would you go?"

"The Barkley Ranch is the biggest in the valley, maybe biggest in the state. I hear they pay pretty well, too. Some of their hands have been there for years, so it must be a decent place to work."

Jensen nodded, "Thanks. And uh...sorry. 'Bout before. It's been a long ride."

The bartender grunted and turned away.

Lou Jensen turned to look at the other customers. If any of them had noticed the scuffle, they weren't paying attention now. Stupid losing his temper like that with the bartender. You'd think a man his age would be better able to control hisself, but sometimes the rage just swelled up in him and was out before he knew it. That's why he was back in California instead of Virginia City. If only that stupid miner had kept his yap shut and left him alone... But he hadn't, and Jensen's bowie knife had taken care of the problem and the yap. So now he was trying to lose himself again in Stockton.

He strode back out to the street and looked around. Down near the livery, he saw the wagon with _Barkley Ranch_ on the side of it. Must be the place. And even better, it was on the opposite end of the street from the sheriff's office.

Lou sauntered up to the 'table' near the wagon. Really, it was a couple sheets of wood set over two saw horses, but it did the trick. "You boys hiring?"

The man on the right looked up from his newspaper, "Yeah. Looking for work?"

Jensen nodded," I'm here for a season at least."

"Where've you been?"

He shrugged, "All over. If it's west of the mountains, I've probably been there. Worked for Loving down in Texas, Gallagher and Lehman in Nevada, Chisum down New Mexico way. Anywhere and everywhere."

The man at the table studied him a bit. Jensen stood still and pretended like it didn't bother him. He supposed the boss had a right to look over the goods. Still, Jensen really hoped this fella didn't take the time to check with all them ranches he'd named. He'd worked for a couple, but not all. Over the years, he'd learned that, when looking for a job, it was best to name the biggest spreads when he gave his experience. Main reason was that a lot of cowpunchers had worked for 'em over the years, and anyone there who got asked would probably say he couldn't remember every hand. Jensen just hoped that these Barkley Ranch people didn't actually know any of the ranchers he'd just named. Or that they were too busy to check.

"Well, I reckon we can give it a go. What's your name?"

Jensen didn't even blink. "Robert Louis."

"You get that, Brahma?"

The other fella was older. He started writing in a ledger book, "Is that L-E-W or L-O-U?"

Jensen answered, "L-O-U-I-S. Robert."

"Got a nickname? We already got three Roberts or Bobs and two Lous."

"I'll answer to pretty much anything. Robert, Rob, Robbie, Bob, Bobby, Louis, Lou, Red, Brick, Sunset, ...even 'hey, you'. Whatever you throw my way, I'll catch."

"Yeah, I can see that with your red hair. We do have a Red, but we don't have a Brick. That all right?"

Jensen shrugged. "Sure."

The first man stood up and extended his hand, "I'm Nick Barkley, and this is Brahma, one of my top hands. We'll be heading out to the ranch about five o'clock if you got any errands you need to do before we leave town."

Jensen shook the man's hand, "Thanks, boss. Much obliged." And then he headed back down the street to sit and watch the comings and goings.

Finding a seat outside the barbershop a few doors down, Jensen tilted his chair back. He watched as the owner of the Barkley ranch stretched his legs. Younger than he would've expected for such a big place. Probably close to his own age. Usually the 'old man' of the biggest ranch in the area could be expected to be an _old_ man...or at least older than what Jensen guessed was about thirty or thirty-five. But then, the man hadn't said he was the owner. He could have a father back on that ranch.

Either way, Nick Barkley was a pretty good sized fella. Tall, broad chested and shouldered, he stood straight and proud. His carriage and walk spoke of confidence and spirit. He wore mostly dark clothing, and Jensen wondered if that meant anything.

Barkley's stance and stride indicated he spent a fair amount of time on horseback, but Jensen doubted a man with that much money did any real work. If he did, it'd be the first time Lou ever saw such a thing. Jensen had worked several big spreads, and most of the folks who owned them never darkened the barn or had much to do with any real work on the place. Far as he could tell, they sat in their big houses and counted their money. Or they traveled back east or over to the old country while their range-bosses handled all the dirty work.

But then again, it was a bit unusual for the old-man's son to do the hiring himself. Be kind of interesting to find out what was what at the Barkley ranch.

When the clock hands neared five, Jensen gathered his horse and rode down to where Barkley and Brahma and a few other men were loading the wagon. Brahma called to the horses, and the parade out to the ranch began. After nearly an hour and a half, they came to a large sign indicating they had finally reached their destination. A large, gray house loomed on the other side.

Well, well. Jensen had to admit he was impressed. That was some fancy manor, bigger than pretty much any hacienda he'd ever seen. As the wagon passed to the far side of the house, it continued to be just as impressive. There were at least three barns and two bunk houses. Everything was neat, clean, and well maintained. Whoever was running this place sure knew what was what. At least from what Jensen could see. He supposed it could be just this area was kept nice so the owner stayed quiet and happy while the rest of the ranch was a shambles, but a place didn't usually get so big by being a half-baked operation. Glancing around, the other new hires seemed a bit awed as well.

Anyhow, it was getting dark as the wagon pulled to a stop. Brahma directed the men to take their horses into the nearest barn. Inside, Jensen found a big, rangy vaquero who called himself Ciego directing them to open stalls. _In the barn_. Most of the ranches he'd worked had the hands turn their horses into a large corral with the remuda. But this place had a barn for the hand's personal mounts. Ciego said they could use their own horses or change them out however they pleased. Jensen was beginning to understand why a fella might like to work here. These Barkleys did appear to take care of their men.

After caring for their horses and engaging in a bit of small talk from which Jensen generally abstained, the new hires headed to the bunk house Ciego pointed to. Inside, a bunch of men were eating the evening meal. The new boys lined up for their food and sat wherever a place could be made.

Jensen scooped up the chow which turned out to be steak and peppers with rice. Really good chow. He kept eating as the talk flowed over him, listening as jokes, insults, teasing, laughter, and bragging flew around. He laughed at the appropriate places and answered any questions directed at him, but he mostly kept his own council. Luckily, a couple of other new boys jumped right in and held the attention of the Barkley hands. As they traded all the usual cowpuncher talk—where they'd worked, who they knew—Jensen just listened and tried to get a feel for the place.

After supper, bunks were assigned. Other ranches Jensen had worked, the bunk house usually had a nickname of 'dump,' 'dive,' or 'shack.' But this place was decent. Pretty clean considering there were probably thirty men living under one roof. They weren't real crowded together, and each man had a trunk at the end of his bunk for personal stuff. It didn't even smell that bad.

As Jensen rolled into his rack, he took stock. All in all, he could've—and had—landed in worse places. He could see himself staying here as long as no one recognized him or got suspicious. And if he could find a way to turn it to his advantage, well, all the better.

The next morning, Jensen joined the other hands for a hearty breakfast. Again, Cookie served up an excellent meal in Jensen's opinion. One thing was certain, he sure wasn't going to starve around here. Afterward, he followed the men outside where the hands from both bunkhouses gathered to get their orders for the day.

Sitting on the top rail of the corral was a husky, dark skinned man, and Jensen ambled over with the other hands.

"All right, now. Listen up. For those of you don't know me, my name is Joshua Watson, and I'm assistant range-boss here on the Barkley Ranch."

Jensen's eyes snapped wide open, and he glanced around. The veterans had no reaction, but the other men who had ridden in from town the previous night looked stunned.

"I know some of you may be surprised that a man like me would be in this position, but that's the way it is. If you got a problem with that, I'm sure you remember where the road is. I'm here, and I'm here to stay. If you can't deal with it, we'd best get that discussion out the way right now."

One of the new hires stared, then glanced around in disbelief. "Honest? Y'all put up with this?"

The seasoned hands never batted an eye. Jensen was more than a little surprised.

"Well, I ain't takin' orders from no Buffalo Soldier. My pa raised me to have more pride than that. There's other jobs."

A man standing next to Jensen answered, "Yeah, but there ain't no other job like here. You best think on this before you high tail it. This is a place where you get to prove what you can do, where they'll give you a second chance. Where the bosses'll back you even if you're different or if you mucked up so bad you ought to be rode out on a rail.

"A whole bunch of us are still here 'cause the Barkleys give us a chance when they shouldn't have or when no one else would. Or 'cause they give us a _second_ chance when we done made mistakes so bad we ought to have been horsewhipped. There's something to be said for that. Also something to be said for loyalty."

The new man eyed Watson again and shook his head, "Nope. I've worked all over this here country, and I ain't never took no bossin' from someone like him. If y'all ain't got no pride in yourselves, that ain't my lookout." And then he turned and headed to the bunkhouse to collect his gear.

"Anyone else?"

Jensen turned back to face Watson, but none of the other new men offered to leave. He guessed they were like him...at least willing to give this place and this...fella...a chance. Jensen would just have to see how this played out.

"All right, now's we all know that we're getting on to the work, I'll just tell you what's what. We already got some men out working spring round up. The grass is greening up, and we're gathering 'em up to get the brand on. We're going out to relieve the men already there, so's they can come back, eat up, clean up, and then relieve us in a few days. That way, no one gets stuck out there for weeks on end. I know that ain't how most ranches do round up, but that's how it's done on Barkley Range. So get your gear ready for a week or so, mount up, and we'll head out."

Not sure what to think about the turn of events, Jensen followed along with the other hands. As he pulled his horse out of the barn, he heard a low whistle from one of the new hires, a tall, skinny young man who went by the nickname of 'Skeeter.'

"Would you look at that?"

Jensen followed his gaze till it landed on a beautiful blonde girl coming out of a nearby barn. She was tall and slender with rounded curves in all the right places. Her yellow hair fell in waves to just where those nice looking curves started getting _real_ interesting.

A bump from behind reminded him to breathe again.

"Brick, you best just stay clear. Trust me on that." A Barkley vet named Wiley was shaking his head.

Jensen looked at the girl again, "I'll be the judge of that. That's one of the finest looking fillies I ever did see. Who is she?"

Wiley eyed the pretty blonde who had stopped at a corral full of mares and new foals. "That'd be Miss Audra—the only girl in the family. And if you think the Barkleys aren't protective of her, you've got another think coming. And believe me, they've got their hands full with that one. She's a wild 'un. But I'm a' gonna say this once, so's all you boys best listen close. You don't want no part of that. The Barkleys is good people. They run a class A operation here, and they're good to work for. But you ain't never seen any folks more committed to they own family. They fight tooth and nail for each other, and _double_ for the young lass there. Mind your manners with her, or you won't never know what hit you."

Jensen's eyes traveled of their own accord back to the pretty girl. He'd bet good money that she'd caused many men to forget themselves. But as tempting as she was, his freedom meant more than whatever pleasures her shapeliness promised. He decided he'd best follow Wiley's advice and forget he ever saw her.


	2. Chapter 2

Shortly, Jensen found himself in an easy canter heading to the holding spot where spring round up was being conducted. As always, he kept an eye out to make sure that there weren't any suspicious folks out and about who might be looking for him. It was unlikely, but a fellow couldn't be too careful with a price on his head.

This was one _big_ ranch. He wondered how long these Barkleys had been in California and if they'd built the place themselves or if they'd bought it from one of the original Spanish landowners. Finally, near two hours after they left the big house, they topped a ridge overlooking the holding spot, and great heavens above, he'd never seen nothing like it. The operation probably took up eight or ten acres! They had two corrals with chutes connected to a crowding pen that was only used for branding. Cattle were sent through, first one chute and then the other, so that the brander was going pretty much non-stop. Over on one side was a whole other pony corral holding a hundred or more horses in the remuda so the men could swap out their mounts without delay. Jensen let out a deep breath. He'd worked for some big outfits, but this beat everything.

The men already on the job looked up and called to their newly arrived comrades. There was a fair amount of dust and noise, but the operation looked well in hand with men, horses, and cattle moving in good order with minimal fuss and bother. Kinda surprised Jensen that an operation this big wasn't more confused and muddled.

Watson got the newly arrived hands organized to where they'd be camped, and then he remounted and rode off. He came back with a man dressed in tans riding a big bay stallion. They conferred a bit, and then Watson set about getting the new crew assigned.

After the midday meal, the other cowboys who'd already been on site headed back to the ranch, and Jensen started getting on with the job. He and two seasoned hands went out on circle to scout cattle. He listened close as the other two men, Doyle and 'Sudden', detailed the area they were to search. Sounded like they'd be out most of the day for just a few head.

Sure enough, the broken country did make the search long and difficult. The first time they met back up, they had seven head between them and drove them back to the holding spot. They headed back out and performed the same circle two more times during the afternoon, and all told brought in sixteen head. Tiring, hot, dirty work.

Riding into camp as the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, Jensen just wanted his supper. He'd had a long few days traveling over the mountains, finding work at the Barkley Ranch, and finally getting in a solid first day. And now all he had to look forward to was dropping into a bed roll and being sung to sleep by cowboys watching the herd.

After another supper (pretty darn good even if it was cooked on the chuck wagon), he stretched his tired muscles and lay down using his saddle for a pillow. He listened as the hands started swapping stories. He wasn't much for jawing, but he didn't mind listening. Sometimes he picked up good information about what was going on in the area or with his bosses or the local law. And more information was always a good thing for a man on the run.

Just as Jensen was about to turn over, a few of the hands went to relieve the men on watch. These fellas had the graveyard shift, and after that came the 'cocktail' shift which everybody hated. That was the time when men wanted to sleep more than anything, just before light when the cattle were starting to get moving. The herd was always restive, the cowboy always cold and tired, and the other men were still asleep. Jensen was just glad he was off herd tonight and didn't have to worry about it.

The dough-wrangler called out early, "Wake up, snakes, and bite a biscuit!"

Jensen stowed his gear to keep the bugs and dust out. Sitting around the fire with his breakfast, he glanced up as one of the cocktail riders rode in. It was the tall blond who had been talking with Watson the day before. Jensen thought all the first crew had headed back to the big house, but this fella was still here. Hmm. Maybe Jensen had misunderstood the arrangement, but looking around, he only saw the men he'd come out with. Except for that one man. Odd.

Jensen, Doyle, and Sudden headed back out on circle. Another long, hot day spread out ahead of them, and Jensen remembered why he was so often tempted to other occupations. Ranching was hot, dusty, dry work that was never ending. Or conversely, it was cold, dreary, and wet. Either way, not easy or fun, and Jensen was already looking forward to the end of roundup with fondness.

Coming back into the holding spot for the midday meal with only five head, Jensen sighed in boredom. Then he noticed the blond cocktail rider crawling out from under the chuck wagon where he'd been sleeping.

This was the first time Jensen had seen the man not on horseback and noted he was fairly tall with broad shoulders and chest. He was in a dusty green shirt with tan pants and vest and wore a light colored Stetson. He removed his hat to wash up. His hair was dark blond, and he didn't waste a lot of time prettying himself up.

Shortly, Jensen and most of the men (including the blond) were either seated or standing around the chuck wagon shoveling in beans and cornbread. As usual, there was a lot of teasing back and forth, but soon it was time to head back out to more of the wearing, tearing work of round up.

And so, the days and nights proceeded. Jensen kept his head down and his ears out. He did his assigned work—from riding circle to working the holding spot. None of the mounts made available to him were cutting horses, but he worked as a flanker, bulldogger, or iron man. One particularly mind-numbing day, he spent the whole time tending the fire and unused branding irons.

The only thing Jensen noticed out of the ordinary was that the blond cowboy seemed to anywhere and everywhere and frequently consulted with Watson who kept things running smoothly. Occasionally, the blond also gave orders which were answered with a promptness Jensen couldn't figure until he finally decided the blond must be the round-up captain in charge of the entire operation. That would explain why he stayed when all the rest of the men went back, but it made no sense that he was out doing all the grunt work with the rest of the slobs who had no choice. And why did he allow Watson to do most of the bossing? And if he was the round-up captain, then why would the other men be allowed to call him by his first name which Jensen had learned was Heath?

On the fifth day, Nick Barkley showed up with a few more men… and the whole camp came alert. What had been the best run round up Jensen had ever been part of got even more so as the men almost snapped to attention.

Jensen watched as Barkley observed the activity, "Hey, Joshua! Things seem to be turning over here pretty good!"

"Hey, Nick! Yeah, so far, so good. When'd you get here?"

"A few minutes ago. Brought you a few more men. Where's Heath?"

"He and Sheltey are riding circle in the northeast. I imagine they'll be in shortly."

Jensen moved on. He was on day guard, just riding around the herd to keep them gathered before they got shuttled into one of the two corrals. Aside from cocktail night guard and fire duty, this was the job he hated most, but it did give him a chance to observe the comings and goings of the men in camp.

Sure enough, before the hour was up, that Heath fella and Sheltey came riding in with about a dozen more head.

The boss-man called out, "Heath!"

The blond turned and grinned, "Hey, Nick! When'd you get in?"

"Just a while ago."

Heath dismounted, and the two of them got coffee before commencing a real conversation. Probably another hour passed before Jensen saw them ride around the camp together. He figured boss-man Barkley was checking out the operation before heading back to the big house.

But evening rolled around, and Barkley was still there. Strange. Jensen had never seen an owner—or even an owner's son—work his own roundup, but after supper, Barkley and Heath rode out together for the first watch. Jensen shook his head. He couldn't count the number of times he'd been surprised on this job. First by a round-up captain who hardly bossed anyone and now a _presidente_ who actually came out and rode guard. This place was just plain odd.

Another one of the new men looked over at the seasoned hand beside him. "Hey, Barrett, this is the craziest place I ever worked. What's the story here?"

"What're you talking about, Tucson?"

"Did I just see the boss heading out on graveyard?"

Barrett laughed, "Yeah. Don't see that every day, do you?"

"And all you fellows call him by his given name! I ain't never seen an owner allow that."

Barrett snorted, "Things is different here. Ole Nick, he don't stand on ceremony much, but you sure as shootin' know who's in charge, don't you?"

"You ain't joshin'. I hadn't been back off circle for more than a minute, and I could _feel_ something different. Then I heard that voice ringing out and knew right off he must be in camp."

Jensen jumped in, trying to get more information. "Nick's the boss and in charge, so what's the deal with that Heath fella?"

Barrett smiled, "Well, he's in charge, too, o' course."

Jensen grimaced, "'Of course.' Of course, of course. He's in charge; I can see that. I'm asking who he is. How come the round-up captain is out here actually _working_ with all us scalawags?"

Barrett grinned, "Well, that's how the Barkleys do things. I imagine Nick'll have McColl and the rest of the men here in a day or two. Or we'll finish here, and they'll start up the northeast holding spot."

"That's all we need, more bossing."

"Well, you can see for yourself, they do the job just like any of their men."

"Yeah, but the big man _caporal_, Nick Barkley, gets to go home to his nice, clean, soft bed anytime he wants while we're out here eating dirt."

Barrett eyed him in quiet challenge. "You don't like it, grab your gear and hit the trail. There's plenty who'd like to be working here. We don't usually have much trouble hiring or keeping men when they've been here for a season. And as for the _caporals_ heading back to the big house, yeah, I guess they could if they've a mind to. But you can see from Heath being here that they get out and do the dirty work right along with us. And most of the time, they do it better than us."

Jensen looked sharply at his companion. "You saying that Heath is a _Barkley_?"

Barrett blinked in surprise, "No one told you that?"

Jensen shook his head, speechless. Tucson seemed shocked, too. At least Jensen wasn't the only one in the dark.

Barrett nodded, "Yeah, he's a Barkley. He's the...uhh...third one."

Jensen shook his head again. "I ain't never worked no outfit where the bosses got out and did this kind of thing day in, day out."

Barrett bounced his eyebrows and smiled, "You may have noticed that the Barkley Ranch is different."

As the three of them settled in to their coffee, Jensen urged Barrett to tell him more. He was dumfounded that information this vital had escaped him all this time.

"Well, let's see. The old man and the missus come out to the valley years ago, long before California was a state. I heard tell they didn't have nothing but each other and what they carried in their wagon. They settled here and started raising cattle, crops, and babies.

"Jarrod come first. He's a lawyer. Mostly works in Stockton and San Francisco when he's in court. And he also makes sure all the family business concerns get taken care of proper.

"Then there's Nick. He hired you. And since you didn't already know about the family, I suppose it's possible you don't know that Nick Barkley is just about the toughest man you're ever gonna meet. You'll see that after you work with him a bit. He can do every job on this ranch better than pretty much any man working for him. And he takes care of us. He looks out for us, and in return, we look out for him and the rest of the Barkleys. He's the kind of man that… well… you just want to be loyal to him."

Barrett sounded serious, but the story he was telling was still hard to believe. Jensen just kept working on his coffee as Barrett continued.

"Then come Miss Audra—"

Tucson interrupted, "I thought you said Heath was third?"

Barrett grinned. "Yeah, I'll get back to him. Anyhow, then come Miss Audra—you've seen her, I'm sure—and then Gene."

"Gene? Where's he at?"

"Oh, he's up to college. We don't see him much, but he's a pretty fine feller. Gets out and does his share just like the rest of 'em when he's home.

"So's anyhow, the old man and his neighbors got into a scuffle with the Coastal and Western maybe ten years back. The railroad was saying that a bunch of the valley was theirs, and the land owners naturally had a different opinion. Went back and forth for a while.

"Old man Barkley didn't really have no dog in that fight, but he joined up with his neighbors. Things got mighty serious, and the railroad got pretty uptight about the whole situation. Upshot of it was that they hired a man to go after the leaders of the valley folks. Old Man Barkley got hisself killed."

Jensen thought hard and had a faint recollection of the dust up. Ten years back, he was probably in San Diego, but none of the particulars were ringing a bell.

Barrett kept on, "So that left Jarrod and Nick to take over what had grown to be one of the biggest ranches in the state. Nick was just a pup then, but he picked up the reins like he was born to it. Looking back, I'm sure he and Jarrod had a hard time taking over a big ranch like this, but they did it. All of us hands was a bit nervous, but Nick and his pa had worked beside us for years, and we all knew him to be a good man. McColl and Brahma and some of the boys had been with the old man forever, and they marshaled the rest of us to make sure nothing got missed. And Nick, he was right there in the thick of it the whole time. A job needed doing, he did it or made sure it got done. And done right."

Jensen nodded, "But you still ain't said about Heath."

Barrett breathed a laugh. "Don't rush me. I'm getting there.

"Anyhow, the railroad pulled back after the Old Man got killed, but after a few years, they started up again with that same old claim that the land was theirs. Things in town was getting tense again. Jarrod went up to Sacramento to argue the valley side in court and in front of the governor.

"In the midst of all this, this saddle tramp rides in and asks for a job. Don't know why Nick said yes, but he hired him on. That night, this bum and Nick get into a knock-down-drag-out, and the next day, the fella's gone. None of us hands really knew what happened, but with Nick's temper, well, we figured something came up. No big deal.

"Just so happened, the night that range bum disappeared, things come to a head again with the railroad. One of the Barkleys' neighbors got his house burned down, and another was supposed to get evicted by the railroad the next morning. This was the fight they daddy was fighting when he got killed, so the Barkley boys planned to help their friends fight the railroad just like their pop.

"Sure enough, they's a passel of Valley men waiting when the railroad gang showed up to enforce that eviction, and the Barkleys was right there with their neighbors. And then that saddle tramp Nick had run off the night before shows up to help fight off the hired guns.

"Well, the fight commences, and the Barkleys and their neighbors whupped 'em good. And after the shooting stopped, the Barkleys brung that same feller back to the big house for a pow-wow. All us hands heard Nick yelling half the night. It wasn't a celebratin' kind of yell neither.

"And the next morning, that range bum we thought was just a regular ole line rider was introduced to us as Heath _Barkley_. Turned out the Old Man had stepped out on the missus years ago, and Heath was the result."

Tucson blinked, "Don't be lying to me."

Barrett shook his head, "No lie. They took him in. Gave him their name."

Jensen narrowed his eyes in disbelief, "No way. No lady living in a fine house would accept that."

Barrett smiled, "She's behind him all the way. I told you, these folks are different from anyone you ever met."

Jensen wasn't sure he believed this, "Then what happened?"

Barrett looked down, "Well, things didn't go real smooth for a time. Nick wasn't happy about the whole situation, and the hands, well, we supported our boss. We were rough on Heath. And I was just about the worst." He shrugged in apology, "I was raised that anyone born on the wrong side of the blanket wasn't fit for decent society. I knew him being here bothered Nick, so I wanted him gone. I did everything I could to make his life a living... well, you can imagine how hard I was on him."

Barrett wouldn't look them in the eye. "We were working a long trail drive to San Diego, and in the midst of it, Nick got hurt. He had to get to the doctor, and he turned the whole thing over to Heath. Don't know what got into me and the other men. We'd always been behind Nick in everything, but when he left Heath in charge, it was like we changed. Plumb lost our minds. We should've stuck with the drive 'cause Nick needed it to work, but getting rid of Heath suddenly became more important, and I talked most of the hands into going along with me."

Tucson was following the story right along. "What'd you do?"

"We decided we wouldn't work for him. We were gonna leave him high and dry. General James Wallent—remember him? He'd come on the drive with us. He promised the hands money and land in Mexico if we left the drive and helped him fight for General Diaz. I tell you, he was a real sweet talker. All of us who'd been in the war, we'd heard of him—even us who fought for the south—and we just got swept up. Or rather most of the hands did. I was helping with the broom." He let out a deep breath, "Not my finest hour.

"But I was feeling my oats, I'll tell you. We left Heath with a few thousand head and went with the general. We were headed down to Mexico with him, and the general said we needed to pick up his guns and powder first.

"But Heath, he got ahead of us and holed up in the cabin where the supplies were stored. All by himself, he planned to hold us off. And then the general, he started talking out of his head, like we was still in the war. He tried to lead us in a charge against _the enemy_. And of course, 'the enemy' was just one man—Heath—trying to save us from our own ignorance and stupidity.

"That's when we realized General Wallent was unhinged." Barrett smiled sadly and shook his head, "And so's ya know, Heath's one of the best shots I ever seen. Must run in the family.

"Felt like I'd been slapped. We watched Wallent attack Heath. And, well, Heath give him a chance, but he had no choice but to fire back. Killed the general. I tell ya, I ain't never been so ashamed in my life. My momma would've been disgraced at my behavior. But Heath, he never held it a'gin us—not even me. Never a word after all them terrible things I said to him—tried to do to him.

"Instead, he put us back to work, pushed on with the drive, got the cattle down to San Diego, and made the deal. I figured once the drive was over that he'd sack me. Lord knows I deserved it. But he told us he'd see us back at the ranch at the end of the week. Gave everybody a bonus and told us when to be home just like Nick would've done.

"And he ain't never said another word about it."

Barrett shook himself and turned to look at Jensen and Tucson for the first time in a long while.

"I tell you, I thought I knew a lot about the world. Now, I know better, and you'd be smart to listen. It don't matter where you were born or who your parents were. It's the kind of man you are now that matters. That you work hard and do a good job. That the mark you leave on this world will speak well of the life you lived. I learned that from that cowboy out there. And I thank my lucky stars that he saved me from my own foolishness that day."

Barrett took a final swallow of his coffee and tossed the rest. He stood and moved away to clean his dishes. Jensen eyed the direction Heath _Barkley_ had ridden in. In all his days, he'd never heard a story like that.

Unfortunately, Jensen was on cocktail that night. He hated night watch, but for the first time he'd ever known, the _owners_ were on the job with him. He was gonna have to rethink bosses after being part of this outfit. When he finally got into his bedroll, he noted the two Barkleys were hunkered down in the middle of their men like they weren't nothing special. Beat all he'd ever seen. At breakfast, the two were up eating the same chow as the crew, laughing and talking. Then they spent some time with Watson, after which Nick Barkley rode off and Heath went to work.


	3. Chapter 3

The day after Nick Barkley left the roundup, they started shutting down the holding spot. Barrett said Nick was taking the other group and most recent hires out to a different site somewhere northeast. The round up was heading for its third and final week. Once they got this spot shut down, they'd head back to the bunk house and McColl's crew would finish up in the other spot. Which was fine with Jensen. He never did like sleeping on the ground, and after a week of it, he was ready for that nice bunk house. If he was lucky, maybe see some more of that pretty little gal, too.

As it turned out, shutting down didn't take all day like Jensen expected. Watson and these Barkley hands had it down pat, and Jensen was given a job with a beginning, middle, and end. He looked up when he finished and found the place had been shut down in just a couple of hours. There was a word for that...what was it...Oh, yeah! Efficient. This outfit was efficient.

That Heath fella, he hollered over to Watson, "I'm gonna check in with Nick and Mac. See ya later!" Jensen watched as he rode off.

A few hours later, Jensen rode into the main compound with the rest of the crew. Just seeing that big house again brought feelings of awe and maybe a little jealousy. Big, beautiful house like that—probably the President of the United States didn't live in a place that nice. Jensen sure would like to get a look inside. Not that he planned on taking anything, but it made sense to know where to find quick cash in case a fast getaway was needed. And, well, he was curious to see how the two Barkleys who ran such an..._efficient_...operation lived.

Once they got their gear put away, Watson sent him and three others to work on a fence repair job. It beat roundup, but not by much. By the time the afternoon was over, Jensen was well and truly tired of posts and wire and the damn cattle that pushed 'em down.

He followed the other hands back to the bunk house, looking forward to a good meal and sleeping inside again. As they rode into the main compound, he heard a buggy pull up in front of the house. The vaquero who took care of the barns held the horse as a nicely dressed man climbed down.

"Mr. Jarrod! Welcome home!"

"Good evening, Ciego! How're things around here?"

"About the same, Senor."

"Have the boys finished roundup yet?"

"Mr. Nick took the last group out just this morning, so I would guess another week or so. Joshua brought the other team in about lunchtime."

The fine dressed fellow nodded, "Well, it's mostly done then. There's not usually too many cattle get over to that last section...that's why Nick leaves it for last. Everyone's tired by then."

"Si, Senor."

"Is Heath home?"

The big Hispanic shrugged. "I have not seen him, but that does not mean much. He is like the wind, in and out of the barn before I know he's there."

A laugh accompanied his response. "You speak a greater truth than you know." He pulled a couple of bags from the buggy as he turned to go in the house. "Thanks, Ciego."

"No problem, Mr. Jarrod. I get the buggy back to the livery tomorrow."

Jensen walked to the mess. That would be the...oldest brother. The lawyer. Might be a good idea to steer clear of him. How did Jensen manage to end up working a ranch where a _lawyer_ lived? How many ranches even had such a thing?

Then Jensen thought about what he'd witnessed in the exchange. The oldest son—a lawyer, no less—took the time to talk to the stable man. And that same man felt comfortable answering him. And him being a Mexican even. This outfit hired people of different colors and then treated them like they was just as good as white men. And _worked_ with them. The strangeness only got stranger the longer he stayed.

As Jensen was cleaning up at the pump, he heard the approach of another horse. He turned just in time to feast his eyes on that pretty blonde filly. What was her name again? Audrey? Audrina? Something like that. Whatever it was, it didn't do justice to the princess of the realm. Seeing her again left Jensen speechless. And the way she rode that horse...sitting astride like a man. Wearing pants that showed off a womanly figure that beggared the imagination. Ought to be illegal for a gal to dress like that. Make the devil himself find religion.

When another set of hoof beats caught his ear, Jensen was able to pull his eyes away—good thing, too. It was Heath. One of her...brothers? Reckon they called him brother?

"Heath! Welcome home!"

"Hey, Sis!"

"It seems like months since we've seen you. Are you just getting in?"

"Yeah. After we broke the main camp, I headed over to see how Nick was getting on. Ended up spending the rest of the day with 'em."

"Nick didn't make you work, did he?"

"No, but he's ready for this roundup to be done. I figured if I could help that happen, then I ought to throw in."

"He's got you wrapped around his little finger."

"He does? The whole house jumps when you call, and you got the nerve to say he's wiggling a finger?"

Her smile was coy. "Well..."

"Mm-hmm. And you know, after all this time being out on the range, seems like _someone_ would want to give me a big hug 'cause she's so pleased to see me."

"Oh, no, Heath. Don't you dare. I know how you boys are after you've been sleeping on the ground for a few days. You're dirty and grimy and smell bad. Don't you come near me!"

"Aw, come on, Sis. It's just good old California dirt and Barkley sweat. Nothing you don't deal with yourself every day." With that, he grinned and started stalking her.

She backed slowly away, holding her finger up in warning. "Heath. Don't you dare. I mean it. Not a step closer. Heath! _Heath!_" With that last shriek, she turned and fled, but he was on her in just a few strides. He lifted her off her feet as she protested with laughter and squeals. He threw her over his shoulder where she dangled like a sack of feed. In her position, she started slapping at his backside which caused him to smack the back of her legs.

When her efforts didn't have the outcome she wanted, she started tickling him about his waist. He laughed and twisted mightily, trying to get away without dropping her. "Audra, stop!"

"Put me down!"

"I said stop!"

"Put me down, Heath Barkley!"

"You want down? All right, fine. You're down!" And with that pronouncement, he dropped her into the horse trough, splashing half the water out in the process. And completely soaking that fine filly. Jensen couldn't help but notice that her clothes were all wet and clingy.

"_Oh! You!_ I'm gonna get you for that!" She picked up the bucket beside the trough. Heath had turned to head for the house, but looked back at the last second. Just as the water hit him full in the face.

Total silence fell over the yard as they stood and looked at each other, the stillness very loud. Finally, he said, "Well, I did need a bath."

Her laughter bubbled up, and she opened her arms wide. He came back and lifted her out of the trough. Both dripping wet, they walked arm in arm to the back door of the big house, laughter trailing from their general direction.

Jensen just watched, completely mystified. They even left him alone with their precious princess. People of different races and a back woods colt. These were some odd people.

Jensen spent the rest of the week on the fencing crew. He kept his eyes and ears open, and his mouth shut. He didn't really learn anything more about the ranch or its owners except that after a night in the big house, the mongrel headed back out to work the rest of the roundup with Nick. None of the seasoned hands in the bunkhouse seemed especially surprised. Nor were they fazed when the roundup finished a couple of days early, and all the men came back late Thursday afternoon. When Tucson asked how they got done so fast, they were told that with Nick, Heath, and McColl all working, that they got finished sooner than expected. And while Jensen expected to receive Sunday off, it was nice to hear that the Barkleys gave them that Saturday too, as a bonus for finishing roundup sooner than expected.

When he got up Saturday morning, he had no plans other than heading into town to find out what was happening—see if anyone was looking for Lou Jensen. But after another fine breakfast, he followed most of the hands out to the big corral behind the house. It was filled with a new string of horses, some of the finest animals Jensen had ever seen. All the hands were standing around admiring them. And the fact that the whole Barkley family was out there didn't seem to bother anyone—family or hands either.

Standing together were the princess and the oldest brother—not in a suit today. Beside them was a small, trim, white-haired..._lady_. No other word came to mind as Jensen set eyes on the woman who called this place home. Though she was in pants and a shirt just like the princess, there was no doubt that she held a position of power. And he sure could see where the princess got her looks.

Heath was actually in the middle of the corral examining the horses up close while Nick sat on the opera rail with a couple of newcomers Jensen had never seen before.

Jensen looked at Sheltey, standing beside him. "What's goin' on?"

Sheltey offered a brief smile, "These two fellows come once or twice a year with whatever horses they think the Barkleys might be interested in. Sometimes they bring top mounts, sometimes a bunch of churn-heads, mostly a mix. It's fun to watch Nick haggle it out with them as he tries to figure how many of each kind they brung."

"That why Heath's in the middle? To size 'em up?"

"Yep. Watch Heath."

Jensen glanced at Nick who just sat the fence. The two fellows who brought the horses sat beside him, waiting to discuss terms. After a few more minutes, Heath looked at Nick. Jensen watched and waited, but nothing else happened. Then Nick climbed off the fence and walked off with the two men. Jensen looked at Heath, but he'd gone back to the horses and was no longer paying any attention to the boss.

Sheltey laughed. "Did ya catch that?"

Jensen didn't know what had happened. "Catch what?"

"Nick and Heath just 'discussed' what Nick would offer for the herd."

"They didn't say nothing."

"Yep. But look at Nick."

Jensen looked back to where Nick was talking to the two men who owned the herd. He was standing with arms folded, shaking his head back and forth, refusing their price. The two horsemen were gesturing and waving their arms, one turned as if to walk away completely, but Nick just stood there like an oak tree with deep roots. Finally, the two wranglers looked at each other and nodded. Ole Nick finally stuck his hand out, and they shook on it. Meanwhile, Heath was still in the corral with the horses.

"Come on, Jarrod! Time for you to earn your keep around here! We need a contract!" The boss's voice rang across the yard, and the oldest son, who didn't appear at all insulted by Nick's comment, tipped his hat to his mother and sister and headed back to the big house after Nick and the horsemen. Jensen let out a deep breath. Must be nice having a lawyer around when they needed someone to write out all the _whereins_ and _therefores_.

Heath, meanwhile, had slipped a halter on a palomino gelding, and he led it over to the two ladies. Jensen watched close but he couldn't tell that Mrs. Barkley was at all nervous or cold with him. She smiled at Heath as she caressed the horse's nose and neck, and then she reached up to wipe something from Heath's jaw. He laughed, shook his head while covering her hand with his own, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. She grinned back like she was trying to scold a naughty little boy.

This place just made no sense at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Bright and early Monday morning, Jensen enjoyed yet another fine meal. That Cookie was a really good grubber, and Jensen considered it an excellent turn of the cards that he'd ended up in a place that dished out such fine chow. He'd spent Saturday in town with some of the hands. He'd wasted a fair amount of time at the saloon, had a bath and his hair cut, and then visited a sporting house. And he never heard the first mention of Lou Jensen.

A good portion of Sunday was spent lying around the bunkhouse. A few of the men went to church, but Jensen never had much use of religion unless someone was getting planted…and it seemed pointless even then. Anyhow, it was a good day for doing nothing. He ended up heading to a big pond north of the hacienda with a few of the fellas and spent the rest of the day swimming and jawing.

He was hoping to avoid the fencing crew again. Wonder of all wonders, McColl told him to head over to the new horses in the main corral. He gathered with about ten or twelve of the hands, Nick, Heath, and Watson. Looked like they were going to sort these horses out. And since Jensen only had his personal horse, he figured he was there to set up his string for when they went on trail. He dearly hoped he'd be long gone by the time he needed more than one horse a day. As much as he hated roundup, a trail drive was ten times worse.

While he was there, he got to see the Barkleys work together again. This time, he just watched. After that episode with the horsemen, he was curious to see how they worked together in general. Especially seeing as one was born to the realm and the other grafted on.

Nick Barkley demanded attention. His voice rang like a bugle, and the hands jumped when he called. The whole corral seemed to revolve around him, horses and men parting like the Red Sea. While it appeared that he talked just to hear himself make noise, Jensen came to the conclusion that, relating to the ranch and work, he only said what was necessary to make himself understood. He gave clear, direct orders that he expected to be carried out right off. King of all he surveyed.

On the other hand was the mutt that, despite all common sense, had been accepted into the litter. He barely rubbed two words together, but when he did say something, the men listened and at least appeared to take whatever action he requested. He slipped between the horses with a manner that demonstrated confidence and awareness. His voice was neither ringing nor commanding, but the hands sure didn't lolly-gag when he opened up.

Night and day difference between the two 'brothers' and how they managed their men, but to Jensen's view, they both seemed to be respected regardless.

As the week wore on, Jensen was given a variety of assignments by all the different people now in charge of him. Sometimes, he worked with either McColl or Watson or both, and sometimes it was one or the other of the Barkleys. None of it was particularly challenging, but then, Jensen wasn't trying to impress either. He just needed to get along here, be a regular cow-puncher who did his job.

When the following Monday rolled around, Jensen went outside to find where he'd be working. There seemed to be more discussion than usual this morning. Nick, Heath, and the two fore-men stood conferring while the men gathered patiently. As far as Jensen was concerned, they could talk about it all day long; he weren't in no hurry to get to whatever dirty old job they wanted done.

Just as he was considering the good idea of heading back into the bunkhouse, a couple of riders came through the gate. Jensen's eyes automatically tracked them as they rode closer, but when he saw they both wore stars, he glanced around carefully to see if he could sneak away without anyone noticing. Of course, he would be standing right in the middle of the pack, completely hemmed in by these stupid cow-pokes. So he started inching through the crowd and tried to make himself invisible as the two lawmen stopped to talk with the bosses.

"Hey, Red! Brick! Come up here!"

Jensen tried not to look worried as he immediately became the focus of attention. "Well, I guess I'll go the outhouse later," he murmured to the men right around him. They all laughed a bit, but he could see their curiosity was up. They made a path for him, and he forced himself to remain calm as he moved to the front. It might have nothing at all to do with Lou Jensen.

"Brick, this is Sheriff Fred Madden and one of his deputies. They got some questions for you and Red."

One of the more seasoned hands came up behind Jensen. He also had red hair. "What's going on, Sheriff?"

"Boys, there was an assault at the Gentlemen's Club after hours last night. The young lady is in and out of it today, but she called him, 'Red.' We're checking with all the men in the area who might go by that nickname to see if they can give alibis for between two and six this morning."

Jensen glanced back at Red who answered for them. "We was here in the bunkhouse. Least I was. Brick?"

Jensen nodded, "Me, too."

Madden let out a sigh. "Figured you'd say that. Anyone able to vouch for you?"

Red answered again. "I was asleep. How'd I know if anyone saw I never moved?"

Jensen just shrugged for a response.

Madden glanced around at the assembled hands, but Nick Barkley put that great big mouth of his to work. "Anyone wake up during the night and notice if Red and Brick were in their bunks?"

A couple of men raised their hands and admitted to waking, but they all denied paying attention. Who could say really? Jensen sure never paid any mind in the middle of the night.

They turned back to the sheriff. He nodded and made a note in his little book. "We'll keep checking. This don't clear you, but it's about what we're hearing everywhere else, too. Hopefully, the lady will wake up soon and be able to tell us who it was. We'll be in touch."

Red shrugged, completely unconcerned, but Jensen watched the lawmen as they left through the gate. When he turned, he found Nick and Heath looking at him.

Nick spoke up, "Don't worry about it, Brick. Fred's a good man; he won't try to saddle anything on you. And we'll set Jarrod on him if he gets the wrong idea."

Jensen offered a small grin as thanks even though his mind was tumbling about when he might be able to sneak away. He didn't like the law looking at him even if it was for something he hadn't done, but he couldn't skedaddle too soon or it would look suspicious. And it'd be a whole lot better if he could wait till the end of the week when payday rolled around. Being on the trail with money in his pocket would be a lot easier. He could try to steal some cash and high-tail it, but they would be more likely to come after him. He'd rather just leave of his own accord at the end of the week after payday. Less suspicion and no one on his trail.

At any rate, he needed to work out the day at least to avoid immediate suspicion, so he headed out on fence detail once again. At least it was mindless, and he could think out his next step.

That evening after chow, McColl called him and Red to see him. When he stepped in the foreman's office, the oldest Barkley was waiting. He stuck out his hand, "Mr. Louis, I'm Jarrod Barkley."

Jensen shook his hand and nodded, "Yeah, the boys done pointed you out."

The lawyer nodded agreeably, "Well, it's nice to meet you although I wish it were for a better reason." He paused and then shook Red's hand, "How're you doing, Red?"

"Tolerable, Jarrod. I reckon I'm tolerable."

"My brothers aren't working you too hard, are they?"

"More like I'm hardly working. Now you's my lawyer, so you gots to keep that between us'n."

Jarrod Barkley laughed out loud. Jensen just watched, a bit mystified. Every lawyer he'd ever heard tell of had been a hard bitten old statue of a man. Not this fella, though.

"Well, I just wanted to run through what we know about the situation in town. It's Janie Tolliver who was assaulted."

Red knew her. "No! She's a sweetie! Is she gonna be all right?"

"The doctor's not certain, but he hopes she'll recover."

"Must be one mean son of a gun what done it to her! She never harmed nobody."

"Everyone I've talked to has said just the same, Red. Which makes finding this man a bit more difficult as we can't figure out if she was targeted specifically or if it was a crime of opportunity."

Jensen watched as the conversation flipped back and forth. Other than having red hair and being a suspect as a result, he didn't really care.

Barkley addressed them both, "So, basically, your alibis are pretty good but can't be substantiated. You were in the bunkhouse as far as anyone knows. You were here when lights went out, and no one saw you leave. On the other hand, no one can positively say you were in your bunks at the exact time of the crime either. So my advice would be to continue to work with the sheriff, answer all his questions to the best of your knowledge, and keep up the good work." He glanced over at Red and grinned, "Or the hardly working in your case, Red."

They both started laughing, and Jensen smiled even though he didn't think it all that funny. He'd never had a lawyer on his side before, but it seemed like good advice. They had no evidence he did the deed, and since he hadn't been involved, he had nothing to hide relating to the girl. Heck, he'd never even seen her as far as he knew. When he'd visited the sporting house, the girl he'd done business with was named Sally or Sari or Sissy or something like that. He decided he'd just follow the lawyer's advice till he could get paid and leave Stockton at the end of the week.

By Wednesday, Red and Jensen had had several more parleys with the lawyer. Jarrod Barkley almost seemed like a regular fella, lawyer or not, big ranch or not. He and Red got along, teased back and forth, but before they parted company, Barkley always updated them on the situation with the sheriff.

With all the ranches and hands in the valley, the sheriff had a list of suspects with near fifty people on it. None of 'em seemed any more likely to be the culprit than anyone else according to Barkley. The sheriff and his deputy had been back once to talk to Red and Jensen and a few of their bunkmates, but the lawmen left as soon as they were done. Jensen didn't seem to rate any more of their attention than the rest of the red-headed men in the valley. He just wished they'd find the cuss what done it, so the law would back off the search.

The rest of the week moved much too slow to suit Jensen, but at least the sheriff stayed away. Thursday morning, Nick Barkley asked how he was doing considering the investigation and all. The following day, Heath did the same thing.

Saturday afternoon was payday, and Jensen was planning to get his due and hit the road. He couldn't help but see the irony that for once he was innocent, but he was running anyhow. He just didn't feel safe under suspicion like this. However, like the lawyer brother kept telling him, there weren't no proof agin' him. And without proof, he didn't think the sheriff could stop him from leaving. Plus, he weren't planning to tell anybody he was going.

That morning, he was assisting the smithy with shoeing some of the new ponies—basically a lot of fetching and holding the horses. At some point he noticed the sheriff and his deputy was up to the hacienda. Jensen tried not to react, but it just came natural whenever he saw the law. He purposefully turned back to the bellows, so no one would see his nerves.

When the blacksmith pulled the shoe out of the hot fire, Jensen glanced up again and found the lawmen and Jarrod and Nick Barkley walking his way. Looking mighty serious. Jensen casually glanced around to check if there were any other destinations they might be headed, but this was the only possibility. One more look, and he'd had enough. He quickly ducked through the white painted fence rails to grab his horse out of the barn.

He saddled that bay quicker than ever before and tore out of the barn in full gallop, scattering men. He regretted he wasn't able to grab his gear from the bunk house, but there weren't nothing for it. He should've left earlier in the week and not waited on his pay, but that was water under the bridge. He'd let that smooth talking lawyer make him think there weren't nothing to worry about. No one to blame but himself for letting it get this close.

His horse was flying, and Jensen thought he had a decent chance of getting away…when a rope settled around his arms and chest. In the blink of an eye, he was yanked backwards and fell hard to the ground. He scrambled to get free but found himself on the wrong end of Heath Barkley's revolver.

"I don't know what's going on, Brick, but I think you'd best hold it. I get kinda nervous when I see someone running from Nick. Makes me suspicious."

In seconds, the lawyer and the rancher rode up with the sheriff and his deputy.

Nick Barkley stared at him severely. "Well, I didn't want to believe it, but your reaction pretty much seals it."

Jarrod Barkley shook his head with regret. "Louis Jensen?"

Jensen just stared back sullenly. He had nothing to say.

The sheriff took over. "Well, Jensen, you had a good run of it, but you're in a boxed canyon now. My deputy, Billy, thought he recognized you from a wanted poster we got a few months ago. I doubt we'd have noticed if it hadn't been for the assault on Janie, but you can't never tell what's gonna bring a man to justice."

The lawyer took over again. "By the way, she's going to recover, and she cleared you and Red of that crime. It was someone from Angel's Camp."

Jensen shook his head at the unfairness. "So what happens now?"

Barkley answered, "You'll be held in the Stockton jail till everyone involved gets notified of your arrest. Then charges will be sorted out, and we'll see where you stand. You've got a long road ahead of you, I'm afraid."

"You still my lawyer?"

He considered, "If your trials stay in this general area, I'll be your legal counsel. Or I can certainly step aside if you want someone else."

Jensen looked him over in a new light. Not many men would stay on, knowing they'd been lied to, but here was someone at least willing to give him a second chance. "We'll see, Lawyer."

The deputy tied his hands, and Heath Barkley fetched Jensen's horse. In too few seconds, he was remounted and heading toward Stockton, leaving the Barkley Ranch behind for the last time.

END


End file.
